


Dead Leaves Among Tombstones Chapter 1

by Have_You_Heard_Of_Escape_Jesus



Series: Dead Leaves Among Tombstones [1]
Category: Constantine: The Hellblazer (Comics), Hellblazer & Related Fandoms, Hellboy (Comics)
Genre: Explicit Language, Gen, Gun Violence, Magic, Minor Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-21
Updated: 2018-06-21
Packaged: 2019-05-26 11:23:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14999867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Have_You_Heard_Of_Escape_Jesus/pseuds/Have_You_Heard_Of_Escape_Jesus
Summary: John Constantine's night takes an interesting turn when a certain red demon falls from the sky.





	Dead Leaves Among Tombstones Chapter 1

The taxi glided over the rain-soaked streets of London, its wheels flowing among the tiny rivers on top of the cool gravel. The taxi usually appeared at around ten o’clock and finished its shift at three in the morning. Granted the shifts were largely formed by the driver himself since he operated solo. Within the butts of old silk cuts and bottles of cheap whiskey and gin on the floor of the car, the ID of one Chas Chandler graced the left section of the dashboard. His short-hair hid below a driver’s cap with his brown eyes becoming dull after each hour of driving. 

Chas’s overall demeanor contrasted with the occult detective in his backseat. His own status as a detective does not hold much merit. The trench coat holding only a half-smoked carton of cigarettes in his left pocket, a flask holding holy water and another piss poor whiskey by his breast, and a cheap golden talisman in his right pocket. The silver zippo reflected the paleness of skin and the dull yellow of his unshaven face among a stained white shirt and black tie, while an old pair of black pants and boots providing little protection to his work. He held only one form of identification, a singular business card stating “John Constantine: Exorcist, Demonologist, and Master of the Dark Arts.” 

Taking a brief glance at the disaster in his backseat, Chas asked “So John, what’s the plan for tonight? Where do you have to go?” 

Offering a devilish glance and toothy grin, Constantine quickly responded. “Well mate, after defeating a twenty-foot demon with a taste for more refined flesh, I decided to take a break for the night. Drop me off at the pub for a quick pint and maybe try to find a lovely one to celebrate the night with if you know what I mean?” His eyebrows raised up and down as he finished the sentence. 

It takes people a while to get used to Constantine’s off the cuff remarks and upfront attitude. He hated formalities and the politeness of conversation, forming a more punk style of speaking. 

“Sounds like an adventurous way to kill a Saturday night” Chas replied. “Which pub do you want to stop at? There’s a ton to choose from.”  
“I’ll try the Nowhere Inn. Hardly any of the more fruitful youths there and the beer is cheap with the liquor prices almost free.” 

The taxi took a sharp left as it began it’s ten-minute journey to the Nowhere Inn. The radio catching static as it tried playing “I Heard It Through the Grapevine” sung by Marvin Gaye. Constantine remembered the night at that small punk club when they tore the house with their rendition of the classic. He quickly lighted a new silk cut, the nicotine bringing a moment of necessary calmness to an exciting day. He began thinking about starting off with a pint of beer, preferably something easy on the wallet but not on the brain. Following it, a shot of whiskey, starting off with two then possibly a third and finishing the night with a man or a woman. These are the only moment of happiness brought on by a sandman. 

His daydream was cut short when a red figure, hurtling from the sky a few hundred yards in front of the taxi, landed in the street. The red giant lurched out his huge stone hand to brace for impact. Luckily, Chas stopped in time. Constantine got out of the car to examine the thing in front of him. The large red creature’s yellow eyes stared down at Constantine while his left hand reached for a large revolver. The sawed-off horns and black beard contrasted with his demonic appearance as did the holy relics around his tool belt. The creature reached for a cigar from his trench coat, who’s only identifier was a patch of a hand grasping a sword with the initials B.P.R.D. on the right shoulder. 

“Who in the fucking hell are you, and what makes you think that you can be in the way of my debauchery?” hollered by a pissed off Constantine. 

The demonic figured huffed then acknowledged the man in front of him. “The name is Hellboy bub and I ain’t got time to for this crap. So if you would kindly get out of my way before I have to turn you into a pamcake?”

Constantine could not recognize the being in front of him despite his unofficial studies of demonology. The angular nature of its face differed the demons he saw during his time in hell. 

“I’m gonna give you a minute before I make things uglier than your bloody face.”

Hellboy glided his hand over his holster, “You think you’re fast enough?”

“I’ve been told that I’m more gentle than a quick shooter.” 

“Ain’t you a luck sonuva bitch.” 

Constantine grabbed the flask of holy water from his coat and threw the blessed liquid into Hellboy’s face. As the water arced, it landed on his forehead and dripped down unto his jacket. 

“I’m not like the demons in the cinema kid” replied an unamused Hellboy. Because of this action, he quickly fired a few shots at the warlock in front of him. 

Constantine mustered a cantrip to trap the religious bullets. Hellboy admired the persistence of the human and his talent to magic. “Is that the best you got you limey bastard?” muttered the snarking occultist. Constantine quickly ran behind the cab to draw up a new plan. 

Hellboy lunged at the cab leading with his right hand of doom after seeing the opportunity and created a large crunch as his hand hit the hood. 

“Not my baby” yelled a distraught Chas. 

“I’m not in the mood for a fight blondie.”

“Fighting, I thought this was flirting?”

“You betta tell me where I’m at now”

“Let’s see, you’re in London and disrupting my night of getting drunk and screwing around.”

Hellboy responded, “Sounds like I’m not interrupting much.”

Constantine decided to use the final ace up his sleeve. He attempted to establish contact with Swamp Thing to gain some muscle through the plant life next to him.  
It took a few minutes before a small green stem grew up from the dead flowers by the cab. At the top, a rough flower appeared. 

“Hiya Greenie.” 

“Now is not the time for your nonsense John Constantine”

“That ain’t how you address a friend.”

“We are not friends.”

“I could use some help now.”

“I am too busy with serving the Parliament of the Trees at the moment to help you in your foolish errands.” 

“Don’t do this to me you rotten hunk of roots…..”

“Goodbye Constantine” and Swamp Thing severed the connection. The stem and flower disappeared from the warlock.

“Swampie…Swamp Thing….Greenie? Well fuck you too then” and he kicked over the flower pot. 

“This can only end in two ways pal, either with your hands up or a fist to the face” shouted Hellboy. 

Recognizing his situation, Constantine quickly adjusted his clothes and hair before putting on his best smile. He walked over to Hellboy with both of his hands in the  
air. 

“I believe we started this on the wrong foot. My name is John Constantine” and hands Hellboy his business card. 

The demon glances at the Brit’s business card. “Cute. The name’s Hellboy, I’m an agent of the B.R.P.D.” 

“Never heard of it.”

“You must not be that good at the dark arts then.”

“Either that or the organization is not known for hiring the best and brightest.” 

Both of them glance at each other following their impromptu introduction. 

Constantine asked “You want to grab a bite. I find that food helps solidify new friendships.” 

“That depends, do they have pamcakes?” inquired Hellboy. 

“I know just the place, a lil’ diner not too far from here. Shouldn’t take too long in the cab.” 

“Yeah, the cab would work if it wasn’t busted by your giant fist,” said Chas. 

“Sorry ‘bout that. Sometimes I forget my own strength.” 

“Not to worry” replied John. “Some magic should do the trick.” 

John said a quick spell to bring the cab to how it previously appeared before the fight. 

The newly formed trio got into the cab and headed to Ed’s diner for a more formal introduction.


End file.
